


We The Living Few

by flurries



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Dystopia, Fake Science, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, No Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, References to Depression, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flurries/pseuds/flurries
Summary: VITA, a biomedical program that gives and takes life as preferred, drastically decreases the suicide rate of South Korea. Do Kyungsoo, a factory worker with a repetitive lifestyle enlists on the program where he meets Byun Baekhyun, a boy who hopes to live longer than he ever thought he would want.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Welcome to VITA

**Author's Note:**

> In case you haven't read the tags, here is a **content warning**.
> 
> This story is a Psychological Drama with implied/referenced self-harm, suicide, and abuse with mentions of the following mental disorders: depression, anxiety, c/PTSD. Anything said or mentioned in this story is purely fictional with no intent to negate, dismiss, or support actual science. Please read at your own risk.

### Prologue

#### Welcome to VITA!

**You are scheduled to join our 12th Orientation Program on August 8, 2184, 11:00 at the VITA Headquarters in Daegu.**

**We look forward to seeing you!**

**Meanwhile, please read a short message from our Founder and CEO, Dr. Kim Junmyeon.**

* * *

I have a faint memory from my childhood where I squeeze in between my parents at night and my mother reads me a story. Any story. Sometimes, she just makes them up. Other times, she just actually reads whatever it is written on the book she picked up on the side. My dad, on the other hand, would put down whatever it was on his hand. Sometimes, it's a book about work; other times, it's just a pen and paper. Then, he would take his glasses off and turn to me. He would pat me gently — over and over — as my mother's soothing voice serenades me to sleep.

Then I would wake up and realize, it was all just a dream.

I had no memory of my parents. Not a single one. They passed away a few days after I was born and for a while, I was consumed by anger. I wanted to avenge my parents for their — as I would all it — untimely death. They were victims of a suicidal man's fit of rage at the same hospital where I was born. His own child didn't survive through nine months and was stillborn. This event ticked him and had him on a rampage. A wild one that cost the lives of 35 adults and 4 newborn infants.

I wasn't sure if I could call myself lucky to have survived such ordeal. Until I met the man who had murdered my parents. I was just a striving college student, wanting to hold my parents in my arms once again. On that day, he apologized to me and said this: “If I could, I would give my life to the people who need it more. If I could, I would take my own life and give it all.” And then it hit me.

Maybe we could. Maybe we should.

And I began developing VITA, the world’s first methodological, and industrial physician-aided-dying program. At VITA, we believe in the value of every person’s life. What may seem like worthless, repetitive day-to-day to you, maybe a gift to others.

Thank you for choosing VITA.

Live on,

Kim Junmyeon  
Founder & CEO


	2. Slate Red

### Chapter 1

#### Slate Red

~ · ~ · ~

“However cozy things seemed, the facts of life were the same.  
You couldn't escape death: It would get us all in the end.”

— Rachel Ward, _Numbers (Numbers #1)_

~ · ~ · ~

I often dream with my eyes open but never when I sleep. That’s if I even do. For the past 27 years, I sit restless and sleepless. I blink every night and I wake up feeling the same heavy weight on my shoulders as the day before. They say sleep means rest but if you’ve never really done it your entire life then maybe it’s safe to say I have never rested.

When I was a child my mother would tell me that I am wired differently and that I shouldn’t feel bad about it. I don’t even know what she meant so I told my classmates I was a robot. For a whole standard year, I walked around the school and the neighborhood declaring my affiliation with artificial intelligence. Then my brother punched me in the face and I broke my jaw and I realize, I am not supposed to feel pain but a dislocated jaw does hurt. And it hurt like a bitch. I also broke my nose a few weeks later.

That did not stop me, though. I didn’t go around telling people that I was a failed AI but I did walk around thinking my pain was a program that can be turned on and off. I burnt myself and cut myself. I banged my head. You can say I did all sorts of things with practically every single part of my body to understand how I was wired.

But, of course, I didn’t get anything but a few days stuck in the hospital. Then I met my first girlfriend. She thought weird was cool and edgy that’s why she dated me. After a few months, she broke up with me, realizing that weird is not as cool as the movies made it seem. She called me a “basket case” so I walked around with a basket on my head for 6 months. I only put it away after my guidance counselor talked me out of it.

“The kid behind you can’t see the lessons on the board.”

I did stop talking to people after that. Not that I talked to anyone at all. But I also stopped participating in class and looking anyone in the eye. I didn’t buy lunch at the cafeteria. I made my own and brought it to school. I ate it in the bathroom like any other ostracized kid my age. Then I graduated and started working at the factory in the replacement of my father. He got sick — prostate cancer. I worked day and night because I was the only one providing for the family. My mother tried to sell kimchi but it didn’t last. My brother ran away from home and none of us have heard from him since.

It’s safe to say that life found a way to tell me my truth. I am no robot but I wished I was. And, damn, how I hope I was more careful of what I wished for.

Working at the factory has practically turned me into a robot. After 5 years of working there, my father passed. My mother died a few months later and then I was alone. But I never left my job. I don’t like it but I stayed anyway. For the past 7 years, I have been working in the same factory, doing the same old thing — sitting by a conveyor belt, sorting burnt from good microchips.

I often dream with my eyes open by that conveyor belt. I have learned how to feel burnt chips. It did risk getting poked every once in a while but my thick calluses have also provided me the perfect protection. There’s always grime underneath my nails and they seem to be permanent now. I’ve completely let go of wanting to be clean or at least decent for anyone or myself. The moment I did, letting everything else go came by easier. So I can sit by the conveyor belt and breathe, staring at the void before me that is a blank wall. It’s the same old slate color as when I started but according to my father’s old photos, it used to be sky blue.

But on that wall, I see my dreams projected. It’s not much of a dream as it is a memory. I see my mother and how she patiently tells me about how I should talk to people. Apparently, I was too weird for their friends. No wonder I don’t have one. I see my father and hear the way he talks to me. The thing about words is that they stay in your head and as time passes, a part of your brain makes it sound worse than it did the day you heard them. Then there’s my brother and his fatal (almost) blows. The thing about almost fatal hits is that it just makes you wonder what’s beyond pain.

Then my dream turns to a fantasy where no one can hurt me. Where the pain ends. There are moments where I try to slip a finger between the gears of the conveyor and watch the blood splatter all over. Maybe it can eat my arm up too. Maybe I can watch as I disappear into the mechanisms and that’s left is my flesh scattered all over, painting the slate wall red.

“Kyungsoo.” My supervisor, Chanyeol, would always end my dream by calling my name. He’d say, “You’re smiling to yourself again.” And I would just say I am happy. Then he’d let me be.

This time I don’t want the dream to end. I want to feel it. So I grab a burnt chip, and lift the sleeves of my overalls, folding it to my elbows. I take a deep breath and point the corner to my skin, letting it dig on my hallow flesh. I would have expected blood to seep through but there’s nothing.

Then an ear-shattering scream stops me.

I look to the direction of the scream and everyone by the conveyor belt stares. Others are blank, some are horrified. I know those faces because my parents make them; you can guess which one does what. The chip falls from my hand. It slips, I suppose and as I bend down to grab it, Chanyeol’s old boots take a step toward me.

“Let’s talk,” he says as I look up and his smile was painfully empty.

In his office, I sit, pulling my sleeve back down.

“Did you get hurt?” he asks and I shake my head in response. “Kyungsoo, I watch you a lot more than I watch everyone else. And honestly, I don’t have to. You’re good at what you do. You’ve been here a lot longer than me, too.”

He takes a deep breath and starts typing on his laptop. I am not worried that it’s a severance notice. And by that I mean, I am not scared of getting fired.

“Do you know where those microchips end up?” he asks and I shake my head again. I honestly don’t care.

He turns his computer monitor toward me and I blink at the glaring white on the screen. The screen says “VITA” and I have no idea what that means. It could be the drink I see at the convenience store. But this looks a lot whiter — like a hospital.

“Our microchips are sent here,” he tells me. “VITA is a project that helps people. You know them, right?” I don’t own a TV, a handphone, or a radio but I do recognize its many advertisements scattered all over. You’d think I would know what it’s about but the billboards are too cryptic for me.

“Live on,” it always says. “Join us at VITA to help keep South Korea alive.”

Is it a new military arm?

“Right,” he mumbles to himself. He probably remembers now that I have zero possession. “I wouldn’t be the right person to tell you about them so I suggest you do the research yourself. Just know that I am doing this out of concern.”

“I don’t have a computer,” I tell him.

“Go to a PC room,” he says. “Now.”

I leave the factory and head for the nearest PC room and it’s been a long while since I did. I have almost forgotten what computers look like and in this place, even Chanyeol’s office looks like an outdated cellar.

_VITA_

I write on the search bar and the search results provide a link to their website, a few online articles, and some ads. “Live on,” they say, again. I scan through the articles and through the website’s unbelievably clean pages to learn this:

_VITA is the world’s first methodological, and industrial physician-aided-dying program. It was developed and founded by a biomedical engineer, Kim Junmyeon. He started developing the program when he was 21 years old._

What was I doing when I was 21 years old? Oh, right. Sorting microchips for this man.

_The program effectively flattened the suicide rates of the country that reached a record-breaking peak after the global economic crisis. Moreover, it boosted vitality rates with people’s life expectancies raised to an average of 80 years. The program is also credited as the country’s response to the crisis from an economic point of view. It now has 5 branches all over the world, not to mention, legalized where the branches operate._

_VITA gives and takes life. They take it from anyone whose lives are at an impasse and give it to those who need it more. Donors and Donees go through a rigorous 6-month program that allows them ample time to decide if they want to push through the final stage._

I sit, wondering whether or not it’s worth the try. It’s six months in an isolated facility versus the factory. There’s really not much to debate but that. I like the factory. It’s second nature for me to feel whether or not a chip is burnt or not. It’s a part of me to wake up at 7 in the morning and show up to work at 8. I can’t live a day without that slate wall or the conveyor belt’s low hum. I like hearing Chanyeol’s heavy footsteps around me. I like to keep people wondering. I like shocking them with my little gestures and the small noises I make. Whenever I sneeze, it’s like they forget I’m human too. I enjoy every moment of it and they don’t even know how fascinating they are to me.

Then again, I just sit there and dream of my repose. Considering VITA may not be so different from that. All the times I sit and dream by the conveyor belt could have been used by someone else to live another day of bliss and tranquility. Why deprive other people of a life they deserve and be a statistic that ruins South Korea’s unbeatable ratings?

It may not be such a bad idea after all.

~ · ~ · ~

**Name?** Do Kyungsoo. **Age?** 27.

“Kyungsoo? Like the spring?” I used to get this question when I was a child until I set my classmate’s hair aflame because she accidentally sat on my choco pie. Bright and flowering, they called me. But now I am dull and withering.

 **Highest educational Attainment?** High school graduate. **Occupation?** Factory worker. **Civil status?** Single.

They said I was never going to get married anyway and I didn’t doubt a word of that. I don’t need it anyway. My family will starve with the little money I make from sorting chips. I wouldn’t tell my father that, though. He would just get mad and then my mother would cry because it’s so painful to see him try too hard to scream when his own body is eating him up alive.

 **Do you agree to share your information for the further development of the program?** Yes. **All information shared will be kept confidential.** Okay.

_Submit._

Look at me now. Finally making the single right decision of my life.


	3. Live On

### Chapter 2

#### Live On

~ · ~ · ~

Daegu is 30 minutes away via the express train. It’s cold and empty but the seats are crazy comfortable. I took out every single penny from my bank account and bought the nicest seat. I mean, this could be the first and last time I’ll ever ride this train anyway.

There are free eggs and hot drinks. You can also opt for an alcoholic drink but you’ll need to have a permit. Alcoholism has spread throughout South Korea throughout the millennia and the government’s solution is by giving out permits — to sellers and buyers. Only those who have no history can buy and sell drinks. I think my country is obsessed with all these kinds of solutions. They even let VITA operate. If my parents were alive they’ll roast this Kim Junmyeon to death for such an obnoxious idea. But they’re old people, what do they know about the problems they caused?

I take an egg and a cup of hot chocolate. “It’s herb-infused so you can have a good rest for the rest of the trip,” the lady who delivered the food tells me.

“I get off at Daegu,” I say and she smiles then puts down another egg on my tiny plate.

“No one has to know,” she says and gives me a sly smile before nodding at the window. There’s a piece of paper folded at the edge of the table and a little pen that looks like it’s been bought in bulk. There’s an 80% chance this doesn’t work.

_CUSTOMER SATISFACTION SURVEY_

30 minutes pass and I haven’t eaten half of my last egg. I meant to do that as it could be the last food I will ever waste. My mother taught me to never waste food, especially that we can barely afford it. Not that I can afford it now but it’s easier when you get it for free.

From the train station, I take a bus to a small town and there’s only one bus that passes by VITA’s headquarters every few hours. It’s a huge facility — more than a couple thousand acres. It sits right at the edge of Daegu near the forest. I saw a comment on one of the articles that I came across that said that VITA owns part of the forest. It’s not surprising and not at all crazy. They own so much and people’s lives are in their hands. What’re a few hundred trees and wildlife creatures?

When I reach the gate, there are a few people coming in and suddenly I feel watched. No, they’re not even looking at me but I feel like there’s a weight that makes me want to crouch down to my shadows and disappear.

“Hey, you in the green shirt,” someone says and I’d like to think it’s my imagination playing with me. I came to the forest wearing a green shirt, I can’t be that visible. “Do Kyungsoo?”

I lift my head and see a smile that makes me flinch back.

“Take it easy, I won’t eat you,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’m Kim Minseok,” he adds then takes a few steps toward me. “I’ll be your aide for the next few months. Nice to meet you.” He offers a handshake but I just stare at it. I don’t think I have the right to touch his hand. It’s clean and it looks so soft.

Minseok looks like the type of person who’s been trained to be a kind, flawless care representative. Smile is not the word for the way he stretches his mouth gleefully; it was a beam, so bright it could blind you. He looks like the type to be sad for two seconds but instantly finds the greener side almost as quickly, maybe even instantaneously. He’s not tall; he’s just about my height. And I can say that he’s been doing this for a long time because he knows exactly what to do with awkward situations like a Donor ignoring your handshake offer.

“It’s okay, I won’t throw you down.” He waits. Patiently.

“Come on,” he says. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

I hesitantly pull my hand out of my jean pocket and just as the tip of my fingers touch his, he grabs my hand and shakes it firmly a few times. “There you go,” he says then pulls me to walk with him through the gates. “You did great,” he tells me as we walk past a guard after he shows him an ID then hands me over a bracelet. “Shaking my hand. It must be hard for you. Were you embarrassed?”

I just look at him. His thoughts process everything so fast that I am still getting over the farthest I have traveled my entire life. For years, I have been stuck in Seoul and now that I know Daegu actually exists, it’s hard not to wonder what lies beyond its borders.

“You know, you don’t have to be. You worked your way through life and those hands are strong. You got a good grip.” I don’t even realize I’ve only been holding on a bracelet until we stop walking and he takes it from my hand. “This will be your pass. Every Donor’s bracelet is blue just like that one. It has a microchip inside that gives you an all-access pass to Donor facilities like the spa, the cafeteria, and the recreational studio. It will also serve as your room key so keep it safe. But don’t worry, if you lose it, I can sneak you a new one easily.”

He then takes my bag, casually and swiftly then places it on a basket brought over by some kind of security personnel. “We’re also taking this away, for now. We’ll identify which of the items you brought can be allowed within the facility and which can’t.”

“We’re not in the facility yet?”

“No, this is just the Mission Control — fancy way of saying security outpost. Pretty wild, huh?” He asks and I just look around. This could be as big as the biggest mall in Seoul and I heard they made it bigger last year. “Anyway, don’t worry about your stuff. They will be kept safe if they won’t be allowed inside. If they are, you’ll find them in your room later in the day.”

I shrink as we leave Mission Control and enter the facility. “We call this the Nerve Control,” he tells and smiles as if he’s waiting for me to react. “Just a little _nervous system_ joke,” he rubs his nape but his smile remains.

The Nerve Control eats you up alive. It’s wide with impossibly high ceilings or pure white everything and glass walls. The forest surrounds the place so the light gives the place a bit of a green hue. It’s not a place busy with people but every person’s presence just holds weight that makes it seem like such a packed crowd. I have no idea how many people there are at the moment. There’s also an overwhelming feeling of being watched that takes over me so I consciously crouch even further.

Then, Minseok puts his hand on my back. It sits there for a while. His palm is warm against the fabric of my shirt and as it remains there, it somehow starts to burn. Until he soothes my back with a gentle pat and with every pat, the heat disappears. My body softens and I slowly raise my shoulders. Then we’re at a halt in the middle of what appears to be a lobby.

“Welcome,” a voice speaks and we all look up to a figure standing by a glass balcony. She’s wearing white and her voice resounds for a person as small as she is. “I know that a lot of you come from far off places so I promise I will make this quick.”

“This is VITA,” she says, hands sitting on the glass perimeter. “We are the first world’s first methodological, and industrial physician-aided-dying program. I am sure you’ve all heard of the term aided-dying or physician-assisted suicide. It’s a practice existing in various countries in the west but none of those practices are programs.”

“And most importantly, none of those takes life beyond its end.”

“Here at VITA we don’t just relieve people of their pain or free somebody from their own demons. With our founder and CEO a strong believer and advocate of life, he engineered a means of transferring one’s life to someone else. Now, this sparks the most important question of “how” and that’s something we’ll show you in the briefing room. Follow us.” She says then pauses for a second before turning her back.

Suddenly, the crowd moves and so do me and Minseok. We’re off to a curved staircase and then to a wide hallway. We’re led in an auditorium and Minseok leads me to our seat. The presentation is long with the history of the program, messages from various people who seem important, and a quick virtual tour of the place. Then we get to the process part.

We follow two people. They never show his face throughout. It’s just a bunch of smartly done camera shots and angles but this is what we learn:

A nineteen-year-old boy signs up as a Donor. A 35-year-old woman signs up as Donee. They never meet even if they live in the same facility for 6 months. They don’t know each other. They have nothing to do with each other. The boy tells VITA that he wants to disappear but he’s afraid. The woman says she needs to live longer for her kids but her Lupus gets worse day by day. After a tedious program with various therapy sessions in between, they sign to participate in the final stage of the process.

Then, they both lie down on separate beds in separate steel rooms. Next thing we know, the boy is pronounced dead and the woman lives to tell her story to this day. She is now 48 years old.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper to Minseok and he leans over to whisper back.

“Keep watching.”

They say energy is what makes us live. It’s the blood pumping on our veins and the neurons firing in our brains. It lets us feel, think, act, and react. These things make us alive. But there’s one other thing that truly makes us alive. Consciousness. It’s that urge — the psychological truth — that truly makes us a living, breathing human being. This consciousness is the mix of blood and flesh, soul, spirit, mind, and every other atom in between. It’s the finest thread in our identity that makes us whole. Mess it up and you’re done for. I know this because I have seen my parents lose both.

Dad stops talking and eventually, stops breathing. Mom falls unconscious one day and never wakes up.

This is what VITA fucks with. They take your consciousness and transfer it — muted, reset — to another person hoping to live a life longer than you would. Chances are your life expectancies will be transferred to someone else. It’s a whole science that I am too uneducated to know about. Too many fancy terms I can never grasp upon. But there’s one thing that sticks to me throughout the journey of the boy and that woman on the screen. The woman lives on with a newfound faith and the boy is cold and stale on a steel bed. But they say in the end, “Live on.”

I am not as surprised as I am puzzled.

Where does life take me if I am right there at the very end?


	4. Sad Face in Blue

### Chapter 3

#### Sad Face in Blue

~ · ~ · ~

“What’s on your mind?” Minseok asks me as we sit in my room. It’s a spacious white with a tinge of color here and there — from the vase, the view outside, but that’s it. There’s a painting hanging over my bed. If you look closely, they’re just random short strokes. But if you pull your head back and see it from a certain distance, you’ll see a sad face over a field of blue.

“There’s a sad face on my painting,” I tell him and he nods. He stands beside me and watches the painting as we stand by the foot of my bed. He’s staring just as intently as I am as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it. I bet it isn’t but he holds on to it throughout. “Can you see it?”

“Yes,” he says then goes back to the lounge chair by my bed.

My room is like a _goshiwon_ albeit a bit bigger. It fits a decent desk and a shelf over it. There are books around that I don’t have a single ounce of interest with. There’s a window by my bed that flushes the light right in. When you look out, you see the field where some participants are mingling. There are people playing chess. Some, playing ball. I’m a few floors up on the 6th. But there’s a thin metal mesh sheet over the window to keep me from leaning forward at all.

“They put that in for your safety,” Minseok tells me and I just nod. “They wanted to use bars before but they felt like a prison so they opted for a wire mesh.”

If you turn around from facing the window, there’s a small table with fresh flowers in a vase. I know they just put in the flowers there because the color is bright. If it’s not fresh then it must be fake. I touch it just to make sure. It is real. I flick the vase to see if it can be broken and Minseok chuckles.

“That won’t break. I won’t tell you who supplied these vases but they’re damn robust.”

I sit at the edge of my bed and Minseok takes a deep breath.

“Anything else you want to check?”

I shake my head and swing my feet. They’re not touching the floor as I sit; makes you feel small.

“I’ve got news,” Minseok says and I look up at him from staring at my feet, still attempting to touch the ground. “It’s quite important that you learn about this because your life literally depends on this.”

I don’t understand.

“We can’t just take people’s lives just because they applied for the program. We take this thing seriously here,” he smiles when he says that and I just feel like I have to smile back. So I do. “I’m a licensed psychotherapist and psychometrician. Dr. Kim himself has a background in psychiatry and designed the program himself.”

I just watch Minseok. Again, lost in his big, bright eyes.

“I’ve undergone rigid training to master the program and it starts the moment you step in the vicinity of the building. It’s a mixture of your social interactions, introspections, behavior, actions and reactions, and a whole lot more. We even evaluate the way you look the moment you get off the bus. It’s all part of it.”

And so I’ve proven myself right. I _am_ being watched.

“But it’s all for good reason,” he says as if he’s just read my mind. “We don’t want to take something away from you just like that.” Minseok snaps and breaks me from looking at him. “We want what’s best for you and if the evaluations tell us you’re fit to live in the world out there, we’re going to work hard to help you get through your demons and live on.”

“So, I may not be dead after six months?”

Minseok smiles. “No one is really ever dead after six months here. We say ‘live on’ because _you will_ continue to live, only as a part of someone else. But I understand what you’re trying to say. And no, Kyungsoo, it’s uncertain whether or not you can or will participate in the last stage of the program.”

“If I won’t die then won’t that defeat the purpose of why I came here in the first place?”

“Is that the reason you came here? _To die_?” He says it but it lands on me like a petal falling from the flower. It gently falls on the back of my hand and gets blown away by the wind. I smile.

“Yes.”

Minseok nods. “People have different reasons for coming here, even if you’re all labeled as either Donor or Donee. Some Donors come here to run away from their lives. Others want answers about what life is and what it means to truly live.” Minseok pauses but he keeps staring at me.

“Then there are people like you. I get this a lot. You came here to die like you’re resolute about the decision you made. To you, this is the ledge and it’s a long way down but you jump. But I’m sorry Kyungsoo. It’s impossible for me to just let you jump in front of a moving train like that. I see something that can be fixed, I fix it.”

“What do you see in me?” I sway my feet, slower. “Can I be fixed?”

Minseok nods. “Everyone can be. Some people just need certain attention to help them navigate through life but that’s what we’re here for. We don’t give up on people. We help them reach a decision. If, in the end, you still want to do it — or if we actually let you do it — then so be it. The rest of your life, for yourself, might cease but your existence persists. On the other hand, if you do change your mind, we’ll let you step out of this place. No one will force you to stay if we’re sure you are ready to go out there again.”

“Have you fixed people before?”

“Oh, I did.” Minseok smiles. “VITA works hard on that part. It’s the reason I’m with you right now.”

I stare and he smiles before pulling up the sleeves of his white uniform. On his forearm is a long scar that looks like a big cocoon. The scar stretches a few inches from his wrist. It’s a little pink but the edges are a bit purplish.

“You see, people like us, came here with almost an uncompromising mindset that all suffering ends with the last breath or the last pump of blood in our hearts. We’re so sure it’s the end of the line. Then we find truth in ourselves throughout the journey.” Minseok pushes his sleeves back to position and smiles. “My truth may be different from yours, but I’ll be here with you as you search for it.”

“You will?” I ask him as he gets up.

“I will. I promise,” Minseok grabs the knob as he responds. He takes one last look at me then at the cabinet at the corner of the room. Then, he’s out of the door.

I open the cabinet and find every single content of my backpack, neatly arranged inside with what appears to be a beeper on top of my neatly folded clothes. The note underneath the beeper says 444 in a huge serif font. When I flip it there are a bunch of numbers and their meanings printed with the same font. Then there’s one combination at the end, written by hand.

**000 WHENEVER YOU’RE READY**

I take a deep breath and grab the beeper. I keep the cheat sheet on the back pocket of my jeans before stepping out of my room. It clicks behind me and I walk on to wherever my feet take me this time — something I haven’t done in quite a long while.


	5. The Donee

### Chapter 4

#### The Donee

~ · ~ · ~

This place has endless routes, twists, and turns like a huge labyrinth. Of course, there’s no way out. Even if there is, it’s secured and it leads right where I began. There are security outposts at very strategic places and a lot of roaming aides wearing the same uniform as Minseok. They smile when I make eye contact with them and my expression softens almost immediately. And I don’t even know I tense up.

It’s impossible to break free from this circle. Everything will look the same. Step forward and you’re in the very same place. A step back and it’s like nothing has changed. Not even the perspective. I’m desperate to leave the illusion but not desperate enough to jump off one floor. So I take a random right to a random room.

There’s a scent that attacks my nose so stealthily that I only cover my nose a few seconds in. I don’t recognize it but it’s calming and a bit… sweet. I taste it on my mouth; that’s how strong it is. The place is warm compared to the outside. Everything is suddenly made of wood. And there’s some kind of soft music that plays and a light flow of water somewhere. I can’t see it but I can hear it. Somehow, I can taste it as well.

My tongue is a mess of unrecognizable scent when the receptionist’s smile pushes me back a little. It’s not creepy, not at all. But she’s been so still, I wouldn’t have known it’s a person if her lips didn’t stretch across.

“Hi,” she greets. “I’m sorry, did I surprise you?”

I just stare. She almost sounds like a robot but perhaps it’s just the way she talks.

“Tea?” she offers and there’s a serving plate with a ceramic teapot and a few overturned little cups on the side. They match the teapot’s makings and I wouldn’t dare touch it. “It’s chamomile.”

I frown. I don’t know what chamomile tea tastes like but I didn’t like the sound of it. “I’m good,” I say and she nods once.

“How may I help you?” She asks hands clasped over her abdomen.

“I’m just looking for something to do,” I tell her.

“Oh, you’re new!” She exclaims and loosens up her shoulders. “That makes us two. It’s my first day today,” she says and I have no idea what to tell her after that. Good thing she laughs and follows up immediately. “Would you like to try one of our facilities here at the spa?”

“This is a spa?”

“Yes, it is,” she says and hands over a pamphlet she takes from the sunken desk in front of her.

 _The Spa_. It just says. There are various amenities in the spa. I can get a whole-body massage, a pedicure, a manicure, or have them done all at once. I can enjoy tea while I sit in the zen garden. There are yoga classes offered and a few meditation sessions throughout a day. There’s a whole bunch of things I can do here. But there’s one thing that catches my attention most. It doesn’t sound pleasing but it does pique my interest.

 _A sensory deprivation tank_.

“What is this?” I ask the receptionist as I point at the final amenity on the brochure. The photo just shows what appears to be a pod with water and lights inside.

“It’s an isolation tank. It’s mostly used to help you through a restricted environmental stimulation therapy or REST. But basically, you just step inside the pod, float on saltwater and breathe. It’s dark and soundproof so claustrophobic donors and donees are not allowed in the tank.”

“I don’t understand.” I scratch my head. “So, you just float in there?”

“Yes, exactly. Some people sleep in the tank while others use it for meditation purposes. It’s really more about connecting to your inner self while you’re in a restricted environment.”

 _Connecting to your inner self_ . I have always thought of this as bullshit. I see a lot of advertisements around me about meditation classes and some other _zen stuff_ and they all claim to help you connect with your inner self. I despise it. I absolutely do.

“Can I try it?”

“Of course! We have one free tank right now. I’ll have it prepared for you.” She says and walks out of her little area. She’s wearing flat rubber slippers and is still taller than me in those. “Follow me?” She says.

Her heels click against the wooden floor and as we take a loop around the spa, we pass by a lounge. It’s empty and I don’t really want to ask why. Much to my surprise, the loop comes to a few meters down a hallway.

“Shoes, please,” she says gesturing at a rack by the door. “Please change to one of our sterilized slip-on. Any other footwear is not allowed inside.”

I kick my shoes off almost immediately and crouch down to place it in a small box as I take the slippers inside it. “Your shoes will be sterilized while inside the box. Isn’t that cool?” She tells me and I awkwardly respond with a smile. She seems so excited about her first day on the job. After I slip in the rubber slippers, in a double door we go, leading us into a room of rooms.

There are about six rooms in total and each one of them is closed. The lights are dim in this room but there are lights on the floor to keep you from tripping. At the end of the hall is a single frosted glass door. It’s a bathroom. With showers, benches, a line of sinks, and a row of lockers.

“The third locker is yours,” she tells me. “There’s a robe inside that you can use. You must take a shower before going into the tank. While you do, we’ll have the pod prepared for you. You’re going to have to be naked in the tank so please don’t wear anything else under your robe.” She then bows at me before heading back out from where we came in. I think I saw a hint of pink on her cheeks as she left.

The third locker has a green light on top. As soon as I touch it with the tip of my fingers, something clicks inside and the light turns red. When I open the locker, there is a bathrobe and towel inside and small bottles labeled shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel. I take them all with me into one of the shower enclosures, also frosted. 

It’s much more spacious inside than I thought. It’s not the typical shower where you just stand. There’s a space to hang the bathrobe and towel without getting them wet and a bench, too. I don’t know why there’s a bench inside but I have no reason to question it.

I take a shower, warm and quick. I have taken nice long baths before. Sometimes, I even stay too long under the water, my skin gets wrinkled. But not today. I do take my time but I enjoy every bit of it. I think it’s their shower gel. Even as I read the labels under the steamy water, my skin is soft and supple as I’ve never felt before. I didn’t know my skin could bounce back like models’ skins do in advertisements.

I rub myself dry with the towel and put on the robe. I take my clothes, towels, and leftover toiletries with me back to the locker and—

“Jesus!” I exclaimed as I almost slip while a man undoes his robe out in the open, exposing basically his whole naked self to me.

“Oh!” He exclaims. “God, I’m sorry! I didn’t know there’s someone else here. It’s usually just me.”

I didn’t even realize I covered my eyes until he told me to put my hand down.

“It’s okay. I’m dressed now,” he adds. “I mean, well, not completely dressed but I have coverings.”

I peek through my fingers and see him wrapped up securely in his robe.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. I am not surprised I saw a penis dangling from his body. I have that too. I’m just surprised he has all the confidence to do all that in the open without any restrictions or inhibitions — until I came. “I was just shocked.”

“Well, me too,” he says as he goes back to tending to his lockers. “It’s usually just me in here at this time of day. Not a lot of people visit the spa at lunchtime.”

“It’s lunchtime?” I ask him as I walk to my locker, two slots away from his.

“It’s okay. They never run out of food here. I just prefer to eat later because everyone seems to eat on time here. The cafeteria is packed from noon to about a quarter past one. I don’t do well with crowds.”

I nod. I may have done something right without even knowing it. I attempt to fold my towel and hang it back on the rack where I got it from but the naked stranger stops me, as if in panic.

“It’s okay, they’ll get you new ones later,” he says. “You can toss used towels there.” He points at a bin and there are two towels inside. There isn’t any sign at all so I assumed it’s a trash bin.

I do as he says and puts my used towel in it.

“You can leave your clothes in your locker,” he continues. “They have it dry cleaned for you. It’s like magic. You leave dirty clothes in here and you come back and it’s fresh.” He’s raising his yellow shirt for me to see. “It smells so good.”

I dump everything in my locker and close it. “Do you always do this?”

“Maybe twice a week,” he says, still sniffing on his shirt.

“How long have you been here?” I ask him. It came almost naturally to me.

“Seven months,” he says.

I raise my eyebrow. “But the program lasts only six months.”

“Exactly,” he says.

I just stare at him as he gathers the rest of his clothes.

He smiles as he turns to me, closing his lockers gently. “Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand towards me and tilts his head, his wet hair still dripping to his robe and on the floor. “My name is Baekhyun. I’m a Donee.”


	6. To Live Forever

### Chapter 5

#### To Live Forever

~ · ~ · ~

“How was your first day?” Minseok asks me. A cup of untouched chamomile tea sits in front of me. It seems as if everybody loves tea in this place.

“It was interesting,” I tell him and he smiles like it’s the right answer. Minseok always does that. He has this look on his face that makes me think he’s proud of me — whether I answer or at least try to. He makes it seem as if everything I do is an achievement that should be celebrated. This time, he just smiles at me for a while. It’s not weird but I can’t seem to grasp about the reason why he’s doing it either.

“Interesting,” he echoes. “Tell me about it.”

“Well,” I begin. “I met a naked man at the spa today.”

“A naked man?”

“I didn’t mean to see it. I was wandering around and ended up at the spa. The receptionist told me about the services they offer and that they’re free. I’ve never been to a spa before.” The way Minseok listens just makes you want to tell more. In his office — warm and cozy — you’ll feel safe like you’re at your favorite brother’s place where he and his family of four lives with their backyard garden and two big dogs that wander around happily. Minseok has a dog in his office, lying next to him with his paws crossed. His fur is thick and golden and he seems as if he’s just as soothed by Minseok’s voice as I am.

“I said I will try the sensory pod thing and so they asked me to take a bath first and that’s where I met him.” I pause and Minseok just stares. He knows the story doesn’t end there so I continue. “I just got out of the shower and his nakedness was the first thing I saw.”

“Did it feel awkward?”

“Do you feel awkward seeing other people’s penis?” I ask him and he laughs with a shake on his head. “I’m saying, I’m not surprised I saw him naked. I’m surprised he can be naked.”

Minseok stares some more.

“I can’t do that.”

“Well, what did the man tell you?”

“He taught me stuff about this place. Like a guide but not officially.” Minseok finishes his cup and I just watch as he pours himself some more tea. “He told me that if I leave my clothes in the locker, someone will dry clean it for me. And that the cafeteria is full around noon because of lunch so if I hate crowds, I should avoid it. He also taught me where to put used towels.”

“Did you find any of them useful?”

“I think so,” I tell Minseok who picks his cup up.

“And did you do as that stranger told you?”

“I’m not a particularly neat person, alright,” I tell him. “I don’t do the things those huge advertisements tell you to. I buy the cheapest toiletries — shampoo, soap; I don’t even use a hair conditioner. I am not fond of these things. And it’s not like I will want to change anything about myself either. There’s no way I am going to do that because firstly, there’s no one to look nice or smell nice for. Secondly, when you work 10 hours a day, seven days a week at a factory on a post you inherited from your dead father, all you want to do after a hard day’s work is to lie down and sleep. Maybe grab a can of pork and beans before bed but that’s it.”

“Doing these things never crossed my mind. But this place… This place, Minseok, is a mystery to me. It makes me do things I don’t usually do. I think in a way I wouldn’t outside the premises of this institution. I have no idea why I did but I threw in my towel in that bin and kept my clothes in the locker to have it dry cleaned. I am not one to notice the soft clothes and the squeaky clean walls and floors but now I am. It’s like I don't want my stain to leave a mark on this place.”

“I have two questions,” Minseok sits up, uncrossing his legs. “Why do you think it’s the place that makes you do it?”

“Because, what else would?” I answer almost immediately. “I mean, I know none of these people. I don’t have any responsibility for you. I never felt the need to be clean when I’m at work but in this place, it’s like I’m programmed to be.”

“Don’t you think, perhaps, the reason you’re _changing_ is that you’ve finally opened up to a new environment apart from your usual lifestyle where you’re surrounded by grimy walls and floors and an oily factory machine?”

I sit quietly.

“And you said you don’t want _your stain_ to leave a mark on this place. What do you mean by that?”

“I just don’t feel clean enough for this place. In my head, if I want to stay here, I need to be just like everyone else.”

“And what do you think does that make you?” Minseok stares at me, begging for an answer without even looking so desperate for it. “Does being like everyone else make you feel any better? Or are you only trying to conform to the standards you believe this place imposes on you?”

There are a lot of answers in my head. Yes, of course, being a part of something makes me feel better. The people around me are almost similar but we’re all wired in peculiar ways that it’s almost impossible to group us either. I think, by being here, we’re all comforted by the idea that there are people like us who exist. We’re not the odd ones out. We simply didn’t know where to fit in.

But this place, there’s something magnetic about it. It’s a utopia for someone like me and so I begin to question whether or not I want to stay here or not. Do I want to live or do I want to die at the end of it all?

“Kyungsoo?”

I look up at Minseok and breathe. “The guy from the spa has been here for seven months. You’ve been here for… how long?”

“Five years.”

“Five years. If people like you and he can choose to stay here for an amount of time longer than intended, then can I do the same?”

“How long did you intend to stay here?”

“Six months,” I tell him. “It’s what the website told me.”

“And now, how long do you intend to stay here?”

I can’t quite understand his question then it settles somewhere within me. “Forever,” I blurt out so casually that it doesn’t even surprise me.

“You think people can stay here forever?”

“Can’t we?”

“No.” Minseok chuckles. “Every single person only has a finite amount of time to live — whether it’s in here or out. If you’re a donee and you’ve successfully undergone the final procedure, we’ll run tests with you to find out how long your final life expectancy shall be.”

“How about for as long as I live?”

“Even Dr. Kim doesn’t live here anymore. No one stays here forever, Kyungsoo. Whether your idea of forever is until your demise or for all eternity, it simply isn’t possible. Even for people like me. A part of us was taken away when we decided to work here, Kyungsoo. This job takes a toll on us. We’re not perfect. We try to be as calm and collected as possible when we face our participants but that doesn’t mean we’re all entirely alright. And this is not to burden you; it’s our job. But seeing how life is handled by the system puts us in a certain perspective that we all learn to live by. We lose at least one person every day, Kyungsoo, and that’s not because of poor management but because of certain realizations about life that we discover in our stay here as counselors, researchers, receptionists, etcetera, etcetera.”

“I’d manage my expectations, if I were you, Kyungsoo. Because not everyone wishes to stay at a certain place forever. Not everyone wants to live forever.”


	7. Lost Time

### Chapter 6

#### Lost Time

~ · ~ · ~

“Those who escape hell, however, never talk about it   
and nothing much bothers them after that.”

— Charles Bukowski,  _ Lost _

~ · ~ · ~

I meet Baekhyun again at the cafeteria. As expected, he arrives past noon and I’m already half-way through mine. I can’t get used to the wide variety of choices served every day so it’s really hard for me to tell if I’ve actually been improving my diet. Minseok, however, keeps telling me that I should get at least one dish from each table.

“This isn’t a hospital,” he would tell me. “No one’s stopping you from eating anything.”

So, I manage to get one dish from each table. There are six tables surrounding the area. There’s a vegetable and fruits section as well as a meat section. There’s also a separate table for carbohydrates and another for deserts. The other table is reserved just for drinks of different kinds — soda, cola, water, tea, coffee, milk, juice, milkshake, and even smoothies. Anything you ask for, they probably have it. None of the drinks are labeled and it’s almost as if you’ll forget that they probably are branded when they first come in the facility.

“Mind if I join you?” Baekhyun asks as he sits across me anyway. He’s not asking; he’s just making his presence known. And I know he’s been around the cafeteria grabbing just about anything he desires to eat that day. It’s hard not to notice him when he’s around greeting just about everyone he bumps into. If he knows them, he will call them by their names — participants and staff — and if he doesn’t, he greets them a jolly old good morning.

You see, Baekhyun doesn’t seem like an extrovert but he somehow feels the need to be nice to everyone he meets. I always wonder what his life is like outside these walls. How many people have taken advantage of him? How many people have realized he’s actually someone who’s carrying a great deal of pain too?

I don’t say a word. I don’t find it necessary to say anything after he’s already welcomed himself to the table. “So, how are you?” he asks me again, and this time, it seems like a legitimate question because he pauses for me to answer.

“Good,” I tell him. “You?”  _ Reflexes _ .

“Great,” he says with a chuckle in his voice. It’s like he’s waiting for me to ask about his day but I don’t so he just eats silently across me.

To be quite honest, befriending anyone in this place is not a goal I’d like to achieve. I don’t plan on making connections through the course of 6 months that could potentially change my mind. I had my mind set on one thing when I came here and I look for no reason to change that. But it’s actually quite hard not to do that with a counselor meeting you every other day and a Baekhyun in the midst.

“I haven’t seen you since that day,” Baekhyun says. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s a huge place. I won’t be surprised if you’ve been out exploring it the past few days.”

I haven’t. Most of the time, I sit in my room because I find it difficult for me to step out of it. I just sit by my window and watch the people outside play. Sometimes I feel like playing but time runs out on me every single time. Before I know it, everyone’s gone and I’m watching nobody play anything.

“I’ve been playing tennis with a few people. We meet every four in the afternoon at the tennis court. Would you like to join us sometime?”

I shake my head. All that’s left in my tray are the empty dishes.

“Okay then,” he says. He doesn’t sound disappointed so he’s probably just asking me to be nice. That doesn’t disappoint me just as much.

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says my name and it’s like he only remembered it now. “Kyungsoo, you’re a donor, right?”

I look up and he’s just staring at me, waiting for an answer.

I nod. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” he says laughing down to his food. He has quite a lot on his tray. He has a bowl of udon, a cup of rice, a pork cutlet with sauce, and a small plate of salad. He’s drinking some fruit juice that’s already half empty. “I just wonder where you’ll be in a few months.”

“Non-existent, I hope.”

“Do you ever think about the person who you’ll give your remaining life to?”

I shake my head. It’s never occurred to me that it’s important who gets it. “Do you ever think of the person whose life you’ll take?”

He shakes his head. “Whenever I try to, it just gets harder for me to move on with this process so I try not to think about it too much.”

“But you have?”

“Oh, I did,” Baekhyun laughs. “I have no idea how much time I have left but I know that I’ve gotten my hopes up one too many times that I’ve stopped expecting there will be anyone at all.”

He’s still not touching his food and I am starting to wonder what cold Udon tastes like. “How did you become a donee?” I ask him, almost out of the blue and after a minute of silence. The cafeteria has lost its crowd and there are only a few people left including me and Baekhyun. The noise can’t cancel out my question or how it sounds if it does sound wrong at all.

But Baekhyun laughed for a moment a second after I asked. He laughs like he’s been relieved that I have the slightest interest toward him as a person. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning to be, that’s for sure,” he starts, sitting up straight. “I came here with one reason, like each one of the donors who come here — to be non-existent but literally. I came here soaked in blood with a knife on one hand and the other on my neck. I thought a quick death is the best death. But it turns out, it’s not my time yet. I don’t remember coming to this place but I remember waking up here. When I did, it’s been two weeks since the incident.”

“After a bunch of therapy sessions over the course of 2 months, I was almost a free man. Then, during one of the monthly health check-ins, they found something in my lungs. Apparently, one of my own lungs is eating itself. That’s not a sight to see or pleasure to hear, I know. But they ask me anyway:  _ do you want to leave or do you wish to stay? _ ”

“And you stayed…”

“No, I asked them to let me leave. I thought it was some kind of punishment, you know? When you’ve done so many wrong things in your life, you’ll start to wonder when karma will get back at you. This was my karma, I thought. And they let me go.”

“But it didn’t take me two weeks to come back. I think only three days have passed, then I started coughing out blood. And I tell you, it doesn’t taste right. I stayed in the hospital for a day and saw death all around me. One by one, the people at the ward started dying like I’m the one who caused it. When I realized I was the only one left, I got up and went. I crawled back to this place and begged them to take me in. I wanted to live. Death was chasing me and this place was the only way for me to avoid it.”

“You don’t look sick,” I tell him and he nods.

“That’s because I am not. At least not as sick. After the lung transplant, they took me back in. There was a significant decrease in my life expectancy. It wasn’t a lot in the first place — 30 more years or so? But with every procedure I went through, my life expectancy lessened and lessened. Now, I don’t have much left.”

“I’m running out of time. Does that alarm me? Hell, yes. But that doesn’t make me lose hope. One of these days, they’ll call me in to tell me the great news. If that doesn’t happen then I guess, maybe, as Dr. Kim would tell me,  _ it’s probably time _ .”

Perhaps, VITA is just like any other place. It’s hell for some people and heaven for some. It’s not as perfect but it sure has the answers to questions we all have. Will it be possible to live through this place? Or is this where we all meet our demise?


	8. Chapter 8

### Chapter 7

#### Will You Save Me

~ · ~ · ~

I wouldn’t say it got to me but some words did get stuck in my head. Words like “karma” and “death”. All of a sudden, the two are inseparable thoughts in my head that keeps me up at night and moves me about my day to non-sense. I don’t know what Baekhyun seasoned his words with but I surely don’t regret hearing them as much as I didn’t necessarily enjoy them.

There’s not much to do when you’re in a place like this. You just live your days doing things that help you ponder on the life you led and the life you’ll be living or giving away. Somehow, as time passes, the people who I become familiar with start to disappear one by one.

Two more people are gone today. As I see people come and go, the promise of VITA is becoming truer and truer to me. It’s like the reality begins to hurt and now I know I am not living a fantasy.

“Did you know that suicide was legal in other countries before VITA happened?” Baekhyun asks me as we sit at the same table where we had that gruesome conversation about life. “They called it assisted death and that’s like avoiding the word  _ suicide _ .”

I just look at him as he says these things like it’s a passing term. Like they don’t mean anything.

“I mean, why avoid it? It’s practically the same thing. But do you know what they call it instead?” He pauses and looks at me. He’s not expecting an answer. He just wants to make sure I am listening. “ _ Euthanasia _ .”

His eyes are empty like he’s been telling this all his life. He has a whole strawberry in his mouth and when he bites, a bit of the juice spills out of his mouth. He wipes it with the back of his hand.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think they have the same principles.”

I watch him talk a bit more. Watch. I don’t really hear anything. Rather, I just watch the words spill out of his mouth in the form of fruit juices. He’s incredibly clumsy and so terrifyingly empty. It’s something you see beyond someone’s eyes. His pupils are still and they don’t dilate even with a smile. There’s nothing there. So, I don’t mean it when I say these things.

“Are you sad?”

He doesn’t react the way I expect. Not with a chortle or a weird look. He just sits there and continues to eat, words spilling from euthanasia-related observations to “I am completely fine” statements overdone.

“No, you don’t understand,” I tell him. “Are you okay?”

“Is that out of empathy or pity?”

“How do I know?”

He smiles, and his eyes remain still. “I don’t know, Kyungsoo. It’s not easy when you’ve been waiting for someone else to save you from your own demise after wanting to meet your own demise.” Baekhyun realizes how completely odd his situation is but he sounds like he’s still full of hope. “I don’t wish to live a long time, just a little longer than expected. In fact, I just want to be better. Once I’m done here, life can do whatever it wants to fuck me up good. I guess, waiting for that one chance can be quite draining and that’s what you see in me. So, to answer your question, maybe? Maybe not. If anything, I am more  _ tired _ than I am sad.”

I nod and we sit in silence before slipping out of the cafeteria. I know he notices how many people have come and gone just in the past week yet he remains. That’s why he doesn’t want to get to know anyone anymore. He just sticks with me unless I’m in my room or just leaves for the spa to get a massage.

I don’t know if it’s the noticeable emptiness but his face even grew sadder when Minseok comes to meet us in the middle of the hallway.

“Good, you’re here,” he greets us. I point at myself just to make sure to which he nods. “Can I borrow him for a moment?” he asks Baekhyun who just nods and turns away, walking in the opposite direction. I watch him walk away for a while before I myself get dragged into what appears to be an office. It’s empty, just a table, two chairs, and a window.

“Is everything okay? You look a little too worried about Baekhyun,” Minseok asks me as he reaches for his chair, dragging it close to mine.

“He’s been sad,” I say. “I guess he’s tired of waiting.”

“He can’t do anything while he’s with us; don’t worry.”

Minseok goes on to explain, yet again, how the place is secure and how no one can do anything to hurt themselves. And of course, that kind of puts me at ease. Minseok has been here longer. He would know if anything was wrong or if there was anything I should be alarmed about. He seems to know Baekhyun as much, too. That also helps me sleep at night, helps me simmer for a moment, and breathe. Even when I don’t see Baekhyun around, I breathe. Through his words, I am able to take a moment and breathe.

Breathe.

Sometimes I forget I breathe so I force myself too until I breathe too much my heart starts pumping so loud. Like if I let go of that control, I would die. I am not afraid to die but to die this way gives me a bit of that fear. Right now I don’t know if I can let go. It’s hard when you don’t realize what’s happening around you. Like seeing Baekhyun on top of a tree and then seeing him walk over with an empty smile on his face.

Sometimes it’s hard to breathe when I see my reflection. It’s not weird but it’s disturbing because sometimes Baekhyun stands behind me with a knife in his hand then I see him somewhere far where the leaves break in the yard.

Then I begin losing sleep that I dream awake. It’s not that I know it’s a dream but I don’t believe it can be real. Baekhyun is always in that dream. Walking on the railings where they greeted us during orientation. He will always be there, balancing himself in the beams. He never falls but I am always afraid he would. So I make a noise and then the dream shifts and he’s just standing right in front of me with that sad smile.

One time, he asks me, “Will you save me?”

Of course, I say yes. Like it’s the only way he won’t fall. Like it could actually save him. I plead to him, “Yes, Baekhyun, please. Yes, I will save you. Please.” And then I cry. I cry so hard it begins to actually rip my own ears as he laughs so loud throwing his head back, standing on that beam. My heart aches and it bleeds. He can’t fall, I must save him. So, I keep crying yes. Yes, I will save you, goddamnit.

But then he looks at me and smiles and for the first time, he smiles so genuinely it rips me apart. “Thank you,” he tells me then falls behind beyond the beams where he meets the hell he refuses to leave.


End file.
